Cold Compresses
by bonegeisha
Summary: Superboy's suffering from his very first headache; and it's turning into quite the migraine. Robin swoops in just in time; bringing along pills, cold compresses, and a little more... -Just fluff and love ;3 -SuperRobin! lol


_~~**~~Hai again! Another attempt at "Young Justice" SuperRobin! lol This one I'm not very fond of...it seems awkward the whole way through...ESPECIALLY the ending. I couldn't think of a cute note to end on like the last time, so this one came out seeming weird...I don't know, y'all let me know what you think...I'll keep making attempts, don't get me wrong-lol-it's just, this attempt gave me alot of trouble._

_Anywho, please enjoy it! Let me know what you think and keep an eye out for another one soon! ;3 Thankyou again!~~**~~  
_

"Cold Compresses"

_-"Everybody needs somebody to save them from their pain."-_

It felt like his head was in a vice. It was going to split open at any second; he was 95% positive of it. Nothing he did would make it go away either. He'd been struggling with the thing all morning and now, instead of being a mild nuisance he could almost ignore, he felt like his knees were going to give from beneath him. In the back of his mind there was the niggling fear that the g-nomes were back inside of his mind; but 76% of him knew this to be irrational.

What else could cause such a splitting pain then?

Superboy groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing a hand over them, squeezing at his temples. If his head didn't break open on its own soon he'd do it himself, just to get the throbbing to go away. His hand slid to the side of his head, his other reaching up to greet the opposite side as he bent his body forward, resting his elbows heavily on his knees and trying to continue with the massage.

"What's wrong with you?" Something flitted to his side on the couch, the squeak of the voice easily recognizable, even to his ringing ears. He groaned instead of answering, the thought of forming words sending another bolt of pain through his mind. He felt like he could cry.

"Supey?" The warmth of a hand soaked through his T-shirt, making the flesh of his shoulder tingle on contact. He felt a shiver building in his spine, but tensed his muscles against it. Now was not the time to be focusing on the strange feelings the little bird sometimes brought up in him.

"My head hurts..." It took almost every ounce of his strength to mumble those three words. He winced behind his eyelids, furrowing his brow and pressing down as hard as he could stand on his pulsing temples. He ground his teeth against the pain. Did Superman ever face such weakness? Such human ailments? Would he laugh at him if he saw him in such a state? Think him even LESS worthy to stand at his side than he already did?

"You shouldn't be in front of the TV if you've got a headache, Supe. That's probably what gave you one in the first place." The hand left his shoulder, taking away a comfort he hadn't known it had been giving. The faint click of a button and the high pitched whine of the television screen suddenly ceased to exist. Some of the ringing in his ears subsided and he gave a pale sigh of relief. He'd never look at TV again if it was doing THIS to him.

The hand returned to his shoulder, resting lightly atop it before sliding to rest behind, cupping the jut of his hunched shoulder blade. The palm flattened, fingers stretching out over the worn fabric of his favorite T-shirt, sending more of those unusual tingles over his flesh. "Did you take anything for it?" The bird's voice had dropped an octave, concern lacing it thoroughly. He shook his head, bowing it even farther forward beneath the pain the motion brought on; his hands slid to thread together on the back of his neck.

"I did not know what it was." There was a small sigh and the fingers on his shoulder curled in before disappearing altogether. So did the empty weight on the couch cushion beside him. He furrowed his brows even more, biting at his lip and giving another, smaller, shake of his head. Such weakness that even the Boy Wonder could not stand to be around him. How pathetic.

"It's called a headache, Supe, and everyone gets them now and again." He wasn't sitting beside him, instead the rail thin boy was opting to stand in front of one of his bent knees. He didn't sound condescending, he didn't sound disappointed...he just sounded concerned. "I know Batman gets 'em alot...they're certainly "astirous" when they strike." Even the great Bat got these, "headaches"? Nothing seemed to phase the Dark Knight...but, a headache could?

"Lift your head up, I've got something that might help." He opened his eyes to the bright of the world, and thought he'd scream. Instead he ground his teeth together once more and drug his hands over the sides of his neck, forcing them to his thighs and clenching at his jeans. Robin's narrow little hand was cupped in front of him, four red dots sitting in the middle of his pale palm. For a second he was distracted by the absolute fragility of the boy and how easy it would be to crush every bone in his body.

"What...?" He glanced up at Robin's shaded eyes, seeing a light smile on the boy's thin lips.

"Just take them." He looked back down at the bird's upturned palm, reaching a hesitant hand to the edible little buttons being offered to him. A medicinal remedy, obviously...wasn't he taught that they were called, "pills"? Would they take the pain away?

He tilted his head back and dropped all four onto his tongue, wincing them down on a gag. Robin gave a quieter version of one of his impish little laughs. He lifted his head and stared at his reflection in the Boy Wonder's sunglasses, blinking in confused pain. "Try drinking a swallow of this...it's a little late, but usually it helps the stuff go down."

He looked to the bird's second hand, watching water glisten in a glass. He took it and downed the whole thing in a single swallow; anything to get the new taste from his tongue. Robin snickered again, but Superboy noticed it was from the kitchen this time, the boy no longer at his side. Even his keen ears couldn't hear the lithe little wraith steal away; or maybe it was the ringing hindering him...

He closed his eyes again and bent over his knees once more, the glass hanging limply in his hand. Whatever the bird had given him, he hoped it worked fast. He didn't know how mere humans could handle such pain, if "everyone got them" as Robin had claimed. He was Superboy, clone of Superman. He was the perfect weapon. How could he be brought to such a state from something as simple as this "headache"? The question was as agonizing as the headache itself was.

"Supe, lift up again." The Boy Wonder was at his side once more, resting on the couch cushion, light as a feather. He groaned and lifted his head as told; anything to make the pain go away. He turned to look Robin in the face, seeing the boy give a light shake of his head before reaching out for him. He recoiled in some upset, turning to look away from him.

"I'm not weak." Robin's hand dropped back to the couch cushion, his mouth falling open in surprise a little before he shook off the stupor. He huffed and reached for the clone again, shaking his head once more.

"No, you're not. But, you ARE in pain. I'm just trying to help you." Superboy turned at his words, sighing and closing his eyes to the bird's hidden features. He felt Robin's fingers brush over his cheek, smoothing beneath his hair before cupping around the back of his neck. The Boy Wonder started to guide him in his direction, pulling him down towards the couch at the same time. He tensed and froze all movement, opening his eyes to frown up at the boy again.

"Supe, just trust me on this one." The sudden slump of the bird's narrow shoulders and cock of his head let him know that the boy's eyes were rolling at him behind his glasses. He remained in suspended animation for a moment, debating on whether or not he wanted to find out what the Boy Wonder's cure all was for this "headache". A bolt of pain pushing through the left lobe of his brain decided for him; he dropped his cheek against the boy's thin thigh with a small grunt of hurt.

"Try rolling onto your back." He did as told, shifting his weight and repositioning himself until he was lying on the breadth of his back. If he had hurt the boy at all during the process, he had failed to give him any inclination. And, for a second, he was briefly aware that his head was resting in the bird's lap. He opened his eyes, blinking and wincing against the light, unable to see anything other than searing pain.

After a moment he blinked the boy into focus, a halo of light wreathing his wind tousled hair. His pale skin seemed to glow, his lips parted in slight distraction, a streak of light glossing the thick of the lower one. He felt himself reaching without thought, wanting to see what the halo would do to the bird's eyes if he no longer had the glasses obscuring them. Robin turned back to him instead, giving a small smile before reaching out to push his hand back to his chest.

Superboy wrapped his fingers around the hand, pressing it into his chest before closing his eyes on a wince of pain; thankfully, the nimble fingers curled into his shirt without protest. Something cold and soft suddenly covered his forehead and eyes, startling him into opening them to absolute darkness. He started to lift up, but the little hand beneath his own pressed hard against his chest, surprising him with its strength. He slowly relaxed beneath it again.

"It's a cold compress. Just ice in a washcloth, Supe; nothin' to worry 'bout." The bird's voice was quiet and distant from beneath the "cold compress", but it was comforting at the same time. He closed his eyes, listening to his lashes scratch against the washcloth as they shuttered over his eyes; the sound echoed around him.

For a moment, he did nothing. He just listened to Robin breathe above him, every now and then feeling the pressure of his free hand dancing across the top of the compress to make sure it covered the entire length of his affected area. And, after a moment, he felt himself relaxing to a point where his mind wondered if it was dangerous.

He couldn't help it though...The cool of the compress mixed with the warm heat of the bird's body beneath and against him...it was comforting. The pace of the boy's breathing was calming, his stomach rising and falling against his ear, inclining him to turn his face towards the strange motion. He'd never really felt someone else breathing before...Had never realized how warm and soft a life could be.

Before long Robin felt Superboy's body give way beneath the opiate of a well deserved sleep. The clone had certainly been struggling with the pain; and it worried Robin a little. He'd never seen anything hurt Superboy, not even hot lava melting the very boots from his feet. But, a headache had him basically doubled over on the sofa? And irritable, he'd been really wary and irritable, almost disoriented. It was a little disconcerting to the Boy Wonder.

He'd call Alfred later and ask him how Bruce's headaches affected him...Alfred knew the answer to anything medical; due to Bruce's "mishaps".

Robin found himself looking down at the sleeping boy in his lap. Strange as it may have looked to someone on the outside, Robin was dying a little on the inside. He was so _close_. And _peaceful_. He felt his fingers pushing gingerly down on the cold compress again, making sure it was touching every inch of skin, making sure it offered every ounce of comfort it was supposed to give. He just wanted to see that the boy was okay...No one else seemed to care too much about doing it.

His heart sunk at the thought, turning his eyes from the covered face. They swept down the length of the resting clone's body instead. Mind distracted again, he felt his gaze lingering on their linked hands, Superboy's covering his own entirely. His fingers flexed beneath the warm cavern of muscle, working their grip on the front of his T-shirt even farther in. He'd thought it was odd to find the clone reaching for his face when he'd turned back around from making the compress, but it was even odder that he had clamped onto his hand so tightly.

Not that he was arguing against it.

He glanced back at the boy's face, releasing a breath of a sigh before slumping a little into the couch. His hand slid from the frozen compress to the tousled nest of ebon hair atop the clone's head. He dropped his own head back on the cushions, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he did. He closed his eyes and let out another quiet breath of air, caressing his fingers through the clone's hair in a lulling, monotonous motion.

Strange, to find himself in such a position. Strange, to find Superboy hurting so deeply in a way that shouldn't have affected him at all. Strange, to find the clone reaching for him and clinging to him; as if he was trying to return the feelings Robin was still questioning within himself. Many strange things for a very small afternoon.

But, strange wasn't always bad.

Before long felt himself drifting into the same deep slumber Superboy was in. Felt himself relaxing entirely, briefly making him question his safety. But, he realized, there was no stopping it. He could feel the clone's breath against his stomach, warm and moist, even through his shirt. And every now and then he could feel his hand twitching with dream reflexes. He rolled his head to the side and gave up fighting with another pale sigh.

Who knew the brooding, rageful clone of Superman, could be so peaceful? _So absolutely comforting_...


End file.
